Welcome to the Schoolhouse
by redwhistle
Summary: The sign outside read: Mr. Acker's Rehabilitative School for Ungrateful Little Brats Who Make My Life Hell.
1. Recess

If this fic is proof of anything, it's that I have a very strange sense of humor. AU/Crackfic, if you couldn't tell from the summary. :D

Note: Rated T for language and some crudeness. No sex or violence.

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Welcome to the Schoolhouse

Part 1: Recess

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**·**

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were – actually, the birds weren't doing much at all. Neither was anything else. Apocalyptic wars tended to put a damper on most activities.

Most, but not all. Down the street, a dilapidated schoolhouse was filled with the shouts of tiny voices. Outside it, a sign had once read: Mrs. Honeysuckle's Preparatory School For Happy Little Girls, but some lettering had been crossed out and written in. It now read: Mr. Acker's Rehabilitative School for Ungrateful Little Brats Who Make My Life Hell. The last few words had to be squeezed in at the bottom.

Mr. Acker himself stood at the head of the class and observed his charges. Most of them being under four inches tall, they all fit on a single school desk, on which sat eight much tinier school desks, arranged in two rows. Only one of the little creatures was actually sitting in his place, quietly drawing on a scrap of paper. The rest of the cloth figures were tear-assing around their platform, screeching and carrying on like a bunch of children. Which they were. Sort of.

He cleared his throat and gave the call to order. Reluctantly, they all slouched over to their desks and sat, looking up at him. "Good Morning, class," he said.

"Good Morning, Mr. Acker," came the dutiful chorus. Their teacher _was_ a giant, after all.

"I have some news for you all. First, we're just about finished building your adult bodies. The transfer should be taking place some time next week."

A ripple of excitement went through the class. Finally!

"Second, we have a new student with us today."

A new student? The little ragdolls looked around at one another. There were never any new students. There was never any new anybody. The doll in the second seat of the front row raised his hand.

"Yes, Two?"

"But aren't we all that's left of humanity? That's what that other guy said. The one with the funny hair."

"The Scientist," Mr. Acker corrected patiently. "And... that's the other thing. You won't be seeing him around much any more."

"What? Why not?"

"That's enough questions for today! Everyone, meet Nine." Mr. Acker plucked yet another little figure from his shirt pocket and set him on the desk.

At the end of the first row, two identical dolls shot out of their seats and made a beeline for their new classmate. All the others laughed as the twins poked and prodded at him, flashing the lights in their eyes as they recorded the new information. Nine yelped as one of them grossly violated his person.

"All right, all right," said Mr. Acker. "That's enough. Three, Four, take your seats." The pair scurried back to their places and folded their hands on their desks, the very picture of innocence.

Nine zipped his front back up and looked around at his classmates. They all stared back at him. A very pretty girl in the second row, who was sitting with her chair tilted on its back legs, raised her eyebrows. He shifted awkwardly. "Um, where do I sit?" he finally asked.

"Yeah... about that," came the teacher's voice from behind him. "We only had enough in the budget for a chair. You'll have to share a desk with someone."

Great. He sighed as seven pairs of aperture-lens eyes narrowed at him. One pair of eyes, however, did not narrow. Also, it wasn't actually a pair. The boy at the first desk of the second row raised his hand.

"Yes, Five?" said Mr. Acker.

"He can sit with me," the boy said, somewhat timidly.

"Thank you, Five! That's very nice of you. You get a gold star for sharing." Five smiled happily. He liked getting gold stars.

Mr. Acker peeled a shiny decal from a sheet and stuck it to a chart on the wall. Five's row was the longest by far. The one two places below it was completely empty. He then placed the tiny chair over by Five's desk and watched as Nine went and sat. The two deskmates smiled shyly at one another.

"All right, class," Mr. Acker said, in his best teacher voice. "We're continuing our lesson on alchemical symbols, and why you need to forget all about them if the movie is going to have a plot. Six, I want you to pay better attention, today." The ragdoll who had been drawing looked up, and after a moment, reluctantly stowed his paper away under his desk.

Nine looked at his deskmate for a minute. "Hey," he whispered as the teacher turned to write on the board, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Five whispered back. "As long as it's not about my eye."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Just kidding. I lost it in a tragic accident on the playground that gives me nightmares to this very day. But it's okay, 'cause now I get this wicked eye patch."

Nine nodded. The patch _was_ pretty wicked. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Shoot."

"Who's that?" He pointed to the pretty girl two desks over, who had just put something in her mouth.

At that moment, Mr. Acker turned back around and looked right at them. "No talking," he said. Five flinched guiltily. The teacher's eyes moved past them, to their left.

"Seven, what did I tell you about chewing gum in class?"

She mumbled something.

"So we can all hear you?"

"That we don't have any teeth," she said in a loud, clear voice.

"Exactly. Now give it here. And sit up straight." Scowling, Seven thumped her chair back to the floor and spat the only slightly-mangled piece of gum into the teacher's giant hand. "I don't know where you even keep getting these," Mr. Acker muttered as he discarded it in the trash can by his desk.

The lesson continued. It was extremely boring, and what with it being his first day, Nine really didn't understand most of it. After a while he gave up and began looking around the classroom. It was huge. Twisting around in his seat, he saw rows of giant desks, like the one on which he and his class were sitting, along with giant chairs, arranged in several rows. On one desk toward the back was a white box with a screen on the front. It was hard to see from where he was, but it looked like some kind of creature was curled up in inside.

"Nine! Pay attention," came the teacher's voice. Nine turned back around and did his best to look studious until Mr. Acker went to write on the board again.

Over at the far left of the room, pushed right up against the windows, was a long table. He looked at it wistfully. Lots of fun-looking things were on it. There was a big round jungle gym, a swing set with two swings, a seesaw, and a sandbox. That must be the playground. How much longer until recess?

After the teacher caught him looking around again, Nine finally took to staring at the boy sitting in front of him. This boy had an oddly-shaped head with a funny little tuft at the top of it, and the number one painted on his back. He was sitting up very straight. Unable to resist, Nine slid down in his seat, reached out with his foot, and kicked.

"Hey!" One shouted. He stood up and whirled around, pointing at Nine. "Mr. Acker, the new kid just kicked my chair!"

"What are you talking about?" Nine said innocently, glancing over at Five, who looked like he would have rather been anywhere else.

"Quiet down, One," said Mr. Acker. "No standing up during the lesson. And _you_," he said, pointing to Nine, "had better stop goofing off, or you'll be writing lines during recess."

No! Not that! One smirked at him before he turned and sat back down. And over to the left, a snicker was coming from the very large boy at the end of the row, with the number eight painted on his arm. But when Nine turned to frown at Eight, he saw that the girl – Seven – was looking at him again, this time with an approving expression on her face. His cheeks prickled.

He forced himself to turn back to the board. He _really_ didn't want to write lines.

Finally, after what felt like about a billion years, Mr. Acker put down his chalk and announced the beginning of recess. He picked up a tray with two handles and brought it over to the class. Everyone climbed onto it.

Everyone, that is, except for Seven, who took off, leaping from one giant desk to the next towards the long table. By the time Mr. Acker had carried the tray over and set it down at the playground, she was already perched at the very top of the jungle gym.

"Now play nice, all of you," Mr. Acker said. "I'll be in the teacher's lounge." With a pack of smokes and some Wild Turkey. At least the Scientist wouldn't be sneaking drinks out of his flask any more.

The twins had already taken the seesaw. Nine made for the swings, but Five stopped him. "Don't even bother. One and Eight always hog them." And sure enough, there they were, already seating themselves, Eight's swing creaking slightly under his weight.

"But that's not fair!" said Nine, eyeing them. One saw, and smirked again at him as he pushed off with his feet.

"You can play with us," Five said, gesturing to Two and Six, who were giving him friendly smiles. "In the sandbox."

That sounded pretty good. He liked Five a lot, and the others seemed nice as well. "Okay," he said, and followed them over to it.

It was better than good. The box was huge, as big as the tray they had ridden over on, and the sand was fine and damp enough to stick together. Nine grinned at his new friends, and they dug in with gusto. The boy called Two was especially clever. He knew exactly how to build the castle so that it would look nice and keep from falling over. And Six made some very cool designs in it with his sharp little fingers. All in all it was a lot of fun until, just when they had almost finished, a pair of feet came stomping into their midst, toppling and scattering all of their hard work.

By the time Nine realized what had happened, Eight was already back over at the swings, laughing and pointing along with One.

"Yeah, I forgot to tell you about that," said Five.

Nine scowled over at them. Eight was very large and scary-looking, but on the other hand, that was their castle! He got up and began stalking over to the swing set. Again, Five stopped him.

"Are you crazy?" said Five. "You can't fight him! He's like ten times bigger than you!"

"He is not!"

"Okay, twice as big as you. Believe me, it's enough."

"So what? You saw what he did! We can't just let him get away with it!"

Five was pretty sure he could. He watched Nine march off to confront One and Eight in their territory. Well, it had been nice knowing him.

One was standing up on his swing, looking disdainfully down at Nine as he approached. On his head was a triangular hat folded out of paper. "Begone from here, peasant!" he said, waving Nine away. "None may set foot in the Land of Swingset unless the King has granted them audience."

"Who's the King?"

One scowled. "I am."

"But that's a captain's hat."

"So what? I still outrank _you_."

"Do not!"

"Do, too! Go back and play in the dirt with the other serfs, or I shall have my faithful knight kick your overly padded behind."

Nine frowned and felt his behind. He didn't think it was overly padded. Five had more padding than he did. Still, that might mean it'd hurt less when he got knocked on it. "I'm not going anywhere. Not until you apologize."

Eight, who had been chuckling throughout all of this, was now guffawing. One just sneered. "And who's going to make us?" he said.

"I am," Nine shot back, bracing himself. This was really going to hurt, wasn't it? Even with all the padding.

"You and what army?"

"This one," came a voice from over Nine's shoulder. He turned around. There was Seven, her hands on her hips, glaring at One.

Over by the sandbox, Two, Five and Six looked at each other. The Queen of the Jungle Gym and the King of Swingset never got involved in each other's affairs. At least not since the Treaty of the Broken Slide last week.

Nine appreciated the help, he really did, but Seven wasn't any bigger than he was. And was a girl. But then he noticed that One and Eight had stopped laughing.

"What are you doing over here?" One said to her, sounding less sure of himself.

"Making sure it's a fair fight. Two against two. Now put 'em up," said Seven, raising her fists toward Eight in a fighting stance. He stared at her, not moving an inch.

"You can't do that," One protested. "We had a royal agreement."

"Yeah, but the new kid wasn't part of it. So apologize – or put up your dukes."

One scowled at her, and then at Nine. "Fine," he said. "We'll apologize. But only if _he_ apologizes for kicking my chair."

Nine looked at Seven, who shrugged. "Uh, okay," he said, looking back up at One. "I'm sorry?"

One nodded regally, and then held up a hand, gesturing grandly, addressing everyone on the playground. "His Royal Majesty, One the First, High King Over the Land of Swingset and its Constituents, does hereby acknowledge the admittance of blame for a certain insult brought upon his royal person, and the expression of remorse immediately following. He does further proclaim his deepest regret regarding the most recent actions of Sir Eight, a servant of the Crown and Knight of the Highest Order, toward his most humble and unwashed subjects." Having said this, he hopped down off the swing and sat on it again. "Now go away. We're playing pirates."

Seven began walking back toward the jungle gym. Nine followed her. They passed the twins, who hadn't stopped playing on the seesaw the entire time. "Uh..." he said.

"What?" she asked, turning around.

Nine's insides did a flip-flop. He ducked his head and scuffed his foot against the floor. "Nothing. I mean, thanks. For your help over there."

"No problem. It was nice to see someone else standing up to them for a change."

He wanted to say something else to her, but couldn't think of anything. By the time he picked his head back up, she was already sprinting away. He watched as she leaped her way up the dome of the jungle gym, turned a somersault in midair, and landed squarely on top, the sunlight from the window shining dramatically on her (somewhat dirty) white fabric.

It was official. He was in love.


	2. Naptime

I'm going to mark this as "complete" for now, though I may write some more at a later date if the crazy takes hold again. :D

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Welcome to the Schoolhouse

Part 2: Naptime

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**·**

Mr. Acker returned from the lounge, as he always did, in a far better mood. "C'mon, y' li'l fuckers," he slurred fondly as they all stepped onto the tray. " 'S naptime!"

Snaptime? Nine frowned. What was snaptime?

The ride back wasn't quite as smooth as the ride over had been. The little dolls toppled every which way as Mr. Acker set the tray down with a thump. "Ow," said Nine as one of the twins elbowed him in the face. The other twin fell squarely on top of him. Was it his imagination, or were they both eyeing his zipper again? He scrambled to his feet and backed away. They waved.

When he and Five got back to their desk, Nine again caught sight of the white box at the back of the room. There _was_ a creature inside – and it was looking right at them. "Hey." He poked Five and pointed. "What's that thing over there?"

"Oh, that's the kitty beast. He was our mascot, but he was always trying to kill us, so now we keep him in the box. You don't have a blanket, do you?"

"What?" Nine looked around. His classmates were all pulling blankets from under their desks and spreading them on the floor. Oh. _Nap_time.

"It's okay. You can share mine."

They settled down on the blanket – Five really was just about the nicest boy ever – and before long Nine heard the sounds of sleepy breathing all around him. He sat up and looked around. Five was out cold. Next to the desk in front of him, One was curled into a ball, sucking his thumb. In fact, everyone was fast asleep – even Mr. Acker, his head pillowed on his arms at the teacher's desk.

This was it. This was his chance. If he could slay the kitty beast, then Seven was sure to be impressed enough to be his girlfriend. Of course, he had no idea how to slay a kitty beast, or what a kitty beast even was. The face he had seen across the room hadn't looked much like a kitty. In fact, it looked kind of scary. But that wasn't going to stop him.

Nine stood up and looked out at the rows of giant desks and chairs. They made a path that he could jump across, like Seven had. He hoped. The first gap looked like it was the biggest, and the back of the chair on the other side of it was very narrow. He backed up, took a running jump – and just made it, windmilling his arms a little to regain his balance. His metal feet had made some noise, and for a minute he was afraid he had woken everyone up, but nobody moved. The teacher was snoring a little.

The kitty beast looked even scarier as he got closer. It turned out to be some kind of robot thing made of bones and other spooky stuff, with one red eye and one blue one. Also, it was huge. At least twice as tall as he was.

He tried to be brave as he approached and looked up through the crisscrossing bars of the box's door. "Uh... hi," he said.

It tilted its head at him.

"My name is Nine. I just got here today. It's nice to meet you."

The kitty beast didn't answer.

"I came over here to slay you, but... I don't know how. Any ideas?"

The kitty beast still didn't answer.

"Oh! I bet I need a weapon." He looked all around. No weapons.

The creature brought its face down level with him, nudging it up against the bars. It looked kind of sad. Nine didn't blame it. The box didn't look like much fun. There wasn't even any sand in there. Without thinking about what he was doing, he reached through and patted it on its bony muzzle.

"Are you crazy?" hissed a voice behind him.

He jerked his hand back and whirled around. There was Seven, with a horrified expression on her face. She hadn't been there a second ago. What was she, a ninja? "Uh... I... uh..." he stammered.

"Get away from there. That thing is dangerous!" she said. From inside the box, a sound came that sounded suspiciously like a _mew_.

"I know," he said. "That's why I came here to slay it."

She looked him over. "With what?"

"Uh..." Great. Now she thought he was a total dumbass.

"I don't think you came here to slay anything. I think you're trying to be friends with it."

Correction: a dumbass _and_ a wuss. "No, I – " he thought fast. "I was just trying to climb up! See?" He put a hand and foot on the mesh and started climbing. The kitty beast mewed again.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "Get down from there!"

"No, it's okay," he said, placing his foot on a plastic bar that stuck out about halfway up. "I – " All of a sudden, with a loud clicking sound, his foot came out from under him. He fell down, right onto his padded backside. (It really _didn't_ hurt all that much.) "Uh-oh," he said, looking up.

The door was swinging open.

"You suck," said Seven.

The thing burst from its box and pounced on him. He shut his eyes, bracing for the worst. But the worst didn't happen. The kitty (he supposed it _was_ a kitty, even if it was an extra-spooky one) just held him down with its paws and nudged him with its hollow nose.

Seven blinked. She'd figured him for a goner. When the beast still failed to eat him a few moments later, she inched her way over and patted it the same way Nine had. It purred. "Cool!" she laughed. "I always wanted a steed!"

It turned out that kitties didn't make very good steeds. Kitties, as a general rule, did whatever the hell they wanted to do, and if you happened to be on their backs at the time, you were going to do it, too. Or – as was the case at the moment – not.

"C'moooon," Seven whined, whacking at its metal body with her metal heels. _Clank clank clank._ "Move!" It didn't, being far too absorbed in the action of licking its paws and swiping them over its bony face. "What are you doing? You don't have fur! _Or_ a tongue!"

Nine, sitting behind her among the spiky things on the creature's back, tried his best to seem disappointed. "Well, looks like this thing isn't going anywhere. Maybe we should just – "

"Hey, what's that?" said Seven, pointing to something over his shoulder. He twisted around. Something was fluttering over from the open window. Something with a tiny body and huge wings.

"I think it's a butterfly."

"But that's impossible! How could a butterfly survive the apocalypse?"

"I dunno," Nine shrugged. "Maybe it's a robot butterfly?"

The possibly-robotic butterfly fluttered past them.

"I don't get it," Seven pouted, turning her attention back to her sort-of steed. "The thing's been cooped up in that box for weeks. Why won't it – aaaaaah!"

They clung onto the spikes for dear life as the kitty took off after its prey. In hot pursuit, it bounded across the desks, tore across the playground, hopped up onto the windowsill – knocking over the Land of Swingset in the process – and back onto the desks. The butterfly seemed remarkably nonchalant about it all. Nine was not. He was screaming his head off. So much for impressing Seven with his bravery.

Seven, meanwhile, was having the time of her life. She still couldn't steer the thing, but she bounced up and down, dug her heels in, and tried to make it go faster. It was hard to tell if she was succeeding.

"Look out!" Nine shouted from behind her.

The enormous racket had woken their classmates, who were now huddled together at the edge of their desk, watching the show. Some were cheering. Others were glad it was physically impossible for them to wet their pants. Behind them, Mr. Acker snored on. "Hey, look, a butterfly," one of them said.

Seconds later, the kitty beast crashed right into them. Dolls, tiny school desks, and even tinier papers and books flew in every direction. "You suck!" someone shouted, probably One.

They did indeed suck. Because now the butterfly was making right for the teacher's head.

Mr. Acker was having a very nice dream, in which his next animated movie had an unlimited budget and no big-shot producers giving him their "input" every ten seconds. Or making him bring them coffee. He hated bringing people coffee. He had spit in the coffee, once. And you don't even want to know what he did the time Timur had asked him for cream.

"Ow!" shouted the teacher as his nose smashed into the table. "Son of a – " he picked his head up and blinked the tears out of his eyes. What the hell was going on? He lurched to his feet, wiped the drool from the side of his face, and looked around.

It was pandemonium.

Somehow the kitty beast had gotten out, and two of his charges were riding it around the room, banging into shit, knocking other shit over. The rest of them were in various states of dishevelment among the wreck of their platform. One of them was hanging off the side of it.

With just a few strides, Mr. Acker crossed the room to where the little beast was now pouncing on something, jostling its small passengers as it batted its catch around with its paws. "All right, what have you got there?" The beast hissed at him. He scooped it up with one hand and ignored its indignant kitty flailing. "Aw, dude – really?" The damn thing had not only forgotten who its mortal enemies were supposed to be, but it had apparently also killed the last butterfly. "You suck," he informed it.

"And as for _you_ two," he went on, turning his gaze to the little ragdolls clinging to its back – Seven and Nine, to his complete lack of surprise – "it's detention."

After the kitty beast was back in its carrier and everything else put to order, Mr. Acker ordered the little hellions to sit. "I'll be right back," he said to them all. "I've got to take this thing down the hall for reprogramming. If even one of you moves a muscle during that time, you'll all be writing lines until the next apocalypse."

"Good thing none of us _have_ muscles," Seven muttered when he was out of earshot. She got up and walked over to the desk Nine shared with Five. Several of her classmates hissed at her to sit back down, but she ignored them. "That was fun, huh?" she said.

Nine blinked. So what if she had the world's strangest idea of fun? Here she was, talking to him. And smiling, which made her look even prettier than usual. His cheeks prickled again. "Yeah, I guess."

"Anyway, I came over to ask if you wanted to be my boyfriend."

Now his face felt like it was on fire. He looked around, and saw everyone in the class staring back at him, just like when he had first arrived. "Uh... what?"

"And keep in mind that if you say 'no,' I'm going to punch you."

"But... but I didn't slay the beast! I made friends with it instead, like a giant wuss. Plus I got us both in trouble."

"So? I don't care about any of that."

"Then what do you care about?"

"This," she said, pulling out a frilly white cloth and thrusting it at him.

It was an apron. Nine looked at the picture on it. "Is this... a sandwich?" he asked her.

"Uh-huh. You'll have to make them for me, and anything else I want. And I don't clean or shop or sew, either. I have my career to worry about."

He decided not to ask her what that was.

"Well?" she asked, tapping her foot. "I'm waiting."

"O-okay," he said. He didn't want to get punched any more than he wanted to write lines.

"Good," she said, with a brisk nod. "You can start by putting that on." She then spun on her heel, strode back to her desk and sat down, folding her hands demurely.

"Dude," Five whispered as they heard Mr. Acker coming back down the hall. "What did you just get yourself into?"

Nine shook his head. He had no idea. And there was one more thing. He turned to his deskmate and frowned. "Do we eat?"

**·**

**·**

Mr. Acker was happier with how the rest of the school day went, especially after the painkillers kicked in. It was probably no coincidence that the biggest of the troublemakers spent the rest of it drawing sandwiches in her notebook, and the newest of them spent it sleeping at his desk. The teacher thought about scolding them, and possibly giving them another detention, but decided to let it slide. It was just easier at this point. He also decided not to ask about the frilly little apron Nine was wearing.

There were some things he just didn't want to know.

* * *

7's career? Professional Badass. Also she can digest food WITH HER SOUL.


End file.
